


I Can (Not) Smell You

by buffer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Leaves Beacon Hills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23284975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buffer/pseuds/buffer
Summary: Stiles moved to Beacon Hills for his final year of high school. There he met Scott McCall, became friends with a pack of werewolves, discovered he had magical abilities, saved the town from a witch that was preying on young people, and got himself a boyfriend (It's too early to talk about mates, Derek, gosh!). But what drew Stiles and the pack together in the first place?
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 5
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [It's (Not) a Cult](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22456819) by [lhr111](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lhr111/pseuds/lhr111). 



> This is heavily inspired by a scene at the end of It's (Not) a Cult by lhr111 (which is a wonderful fic and you definitely should read it) where Stiles freaks out that his spark forced the pack to become friends with him, but is told that his spark couldn't force the friendships that he developed or create them out of nothing, it just helped them meet sooner rather than later. I started thinking about what if Stiles refused to believe that and then created this. 
> 
> Also, I've had this idea and some notes for a few weeks but I'm finally writing this out while I am quarantined so this won't be beta'd 
> 
> Tags will be added as I can think of them

A warm summer breeze brushed across Stiles Stilinski’s bare arms as he lay against the even warmer chest of Derek Hale. His senior year of high school had come and gone, but not in the way that he ever could have imagined. If anyone had told him that he would spend the year moving to a new town, becoming friends with an awesome - and very attractive - group of people, becoming exiled by that same group, discovering latent magical powers, figuring out that that his friends were actually in a pack of werewolves, forcing his way back in to said pack, and using his newfound abilities to save a child from a witch, then he would have laughed in their face. However, it was all very real, and he even got a shiny new boyfriend out of it!

A boyfriend that was currently cuddling the shit out of him, and failing to be subtle as he sniffed the sides of his neck, while they sat on the edge of the deck.

The pack was lounging in the backyard of the Stillinki household. The sheriff was grilling enough food for a small army, Scott, Isaac and Erica were tossing a lacrosse ball back and forth, Kira and Boyd were watching from the sidelines, while Lydia forced Jackson to help her lay out the rest of the food on the table that Derek had brought over. Deaton stood off to the side, discussing something with Peter and Jordan that Stiles couldn’t overhear. 

“You know,” Stiles thought out loud, “I’m so grateful that Scott sat next to me that first day. None of this would have happened if he hadn’t.”

“Hell yeah, dude!” Scott exclaimed, flashing a huge smile. “I’m so glad I did.”   
  
“Was there any reason why? There were other open seats, but why did you pick me to be your partner?”

Scott’s smile was replaced by a frown as the game of catch stopped and he walked closer. Derek’s hands, which had been caressing Stiles’ sides, stilled. “I dunno. It was a while ago but I think you just seemed nice and it felt right.”

Other conversations faded away, and suddenly everyone was paying attention. 

“Scott,” Derek rumbled. “You guys usually kept to yourselves, saying that the pack was all you needed. Yet you sat next to Stiles and introduced him to the pack right away.”

Stiles turned around so that he could see Derek’s face. His eyebrows were furrowed, and while he looked concerned, he didn’t look angry. He was still learning to decipher Derek’s facial expressions, but he thought he saw curiosity. Or was he hoping that it was curiosity instead of distrust?

“Um, are you saying he shouldn’t have?” 

“I think Derek is on to something,” Deaton interrupts, “Stiles, you revealed that by repeating something vocally and mentally that your spark was able to damage tires and also summon Derek to you. Were you repeating anything to yourself that day?”   
  
Derek gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, which helped ease the rising panic Stiles felt. He took a deep breath and tried to recall his state of mind. There were memories of sitting in the parking lot of the school and trying to calm his nerves, and walking through halls full of strangers, and desperate mental pleas.    
  


“I was telling myself that it was a fresh start and that I just had to make one friend that first day. I kept repeating that all I needed to do was make one friend and then I would be able to make more and,” his mouth stopped and his eyes went wide. “I did this. I forced Scott to be friends with me, and then everyone else.”

Everyone broke their silence, insisting that he was wrong. Scott kept insisting that they were real friends, Jackson proclaimed that there was no way magic made him like Stiles in the beginning because he hated him for hitting on Lydia. It was a cacophony of voices insisting that they were friends with him due to their own free will, but he couldn’t believe it.

Deaton raised his hands, silencing the group. “Your spark cannot create connections between people out of thin air. However, I suspect that the spark was able to see the potential that exists between Scott and yourself, and so it brought the two of you together. Your friendship is genuine and would likely have blossomed regardless of how early or how late the two of you happened to cross paths.”

His spark was able to see the potential friendship between himself and Scott?   
  


His spark could sense potential.

High potential.

His spark saw high potential between them. His spark brought them together because there was high potential. Surely there was potential for friendship between himself and the other kids at the school, wasn’t there? Surely the pack weren’t the only ones who could stand to be Stiles’ friend. But if his spark was seeking people that would have the highest potential and brought him a pack of werewolves, then does that mean his spark was also trying to increase its own power? If it was power that the spark was after then it would make sense to seek out other supernatural beings that would help it to grow. Which would explain why it lured in a pack of werewolves rather than a singular witch. 

The breeze shifted and caused his skin to break out in goosebumps. Derek’s hands were suddenly too much. 

“I forced this.”

He needed to leave.

  
“This is my fault.” He stood from Derek’s lap and stepped out of his grasp. “I need to leave.”

“Stiles, no!” He wasn’t sure who said it, but there were multiple voices that shouted the same sentiment.

But they didn’t want him to stay, not really. Except for his dad, none of them truly wanted him there. If it was his spark that brought them to him, then surely when his spark was gone they would no longer be under his spell. He was out of control. If his powers could force a whole group of people to take him under their wing, and could force someone to fall in love with him, then he shouldn’t be around anyone until he could get his powers under control.

“I need to leave.” He began to run towards the trees that lined the backyard. “I need to get  _ out of here.  _ I NEED TO-”

When he crossed the tree line he disappeared. 


	2. Chapter 2

Noah Stilinski released a heavy sigh as he set down his empty tumbler on the kitchen table and lay his head in his hands. It had been three days since his son had disappeared, and every hour seemed longer than the previous. When Stiles had broken the tree line it was as if he had stepped around the corner of an invisible wall; one moment he was there and the next he wasn’t. The pack was stunned initially before sprinting across the lawn, following Stiles’ scent that led to a dead end.

At first, they took off into the woods, hoping to hear or smell him nearby, but they all returned empty-handed. Someone had demanded that Deaton perform a spell to locate Stiles, but Deaton gently informed them that he did not have those kinds of capabilities. Stiles did, but he did not. It took an embarrassingly long time for someone to suggest that they call Stiles’ phone, but once the call was placed, a gentle vibrating came from the kitchen counter.

“Everyone, eat something,” Noah insisted. “We won’t be able to find him on an empty stomach, and I know he wouldn’t want this food to go to waste.”

It was the quietest meal the pack had ever shared.

Afterward, Derek assigned each of his betas a route to run, each starting at a place Stiles spent a significant amount of time at and then branching out until each path reached the border of the Hale territory. Noah informed his deputies to keep an eye out for him during their patrols.

When everyone returned empty-handed, the Sheriff ordered everyone to get as much sleep as they could and then they would start sweeping more areas of town and the preserve in the morning. Two days of searching yielded no results. Stiles’ scent was in the air, but it was stale. No one could detect any fresh traces of Stiles anywhere. The sheriff departments of neighboring counties had been notified and a picture of Stiles had been sent over so that they could expand their search, but so far no one had seen him. 

Noah did his best to avoid drinking, but after the second night of nightmares where he found Stiles bleeding out from a teleportation gone wrong, he finally succumbed. It was after his third sip that he received a phone call from a blocked number. 

“Hello? Sheriff Stilinski here!” He fumbled with the phone as he answers. 

There was no response.

“Hello? Stiles?”

At first, it remained silent, save for what might have been wind, before a small voice answered, “Hey dad.”

“Stiles! Where are you, son? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, dad. I’m… I’m safe.”

“You paused.”

Stiles sighed. “I’m really sorry dad. It’s just that - I found someone that can teach me how to use my spark. It’s like Hogwarts, if Hogwarts was just a couple buildings in the middle of a forest. And there aren’t four houses, there’s just, like, seven of us? Students, I mean. It turns out they were waiting for me when I arrived here. I dunno how, though.”

“Where is ‘here,’ Stiles? Where are you?”

Stiles paused before answering. “I’m not going to tell you where I am, dad. It’s for the best. I was so desperate for friends that I manipulated an entire werewolf pack into accepting me. I can’t do that again. Everyone else here is like me. Sparks. I can’t do the same thing to them.”

“Stiles, that’s not true. Deaton said -“

“But I did! I drew Scott in and that’s the first domino that got me into this mess!”

Noah sighed. He knew that this was one of those times where an idea had taken root in his son’s head and there was nothing he could say would dislodge it. “You didn’t do anything wrong, son. I wish you would believe me.”

“I can’t,” Stiles’ voice cracked. “I gotta go, dad. I should be able to call you in a week. I might be able to send you a letter sooner, but that depends on whether I can figure it out.”

“Figure what out? Wait, Stiles, don’t hang up!”

“You’ll see, dad. I’m about to lose service. I love you.”  
  
“I love you, Stiles.” He whispered.

Derek knocked on the Sheriff’s door. The text he had received was incomprehensible, so he decided to go visit the man and figure out if it was an accident or if there was any news. Three days of failure had taken its toll on the entire pack, and he could not, for the life of him, remember if anyone had thought about making sure that the Sheriff had any emotional support. The man had been a beacon of stability and leadership thus far, but Derek had no idea if he had spent the previous nights alone, though he suspected that the man had.

No one answered the door, so he listened for noises inside the house and heard a soft snore. The front door was locked, but the back door was not. The Sheriff was asleep at the kitchen table, the glass beside him containing the remnants of the ice cubes used to chill the whiskey that no doubt put the man to sleep.

When shaking Noah’s shoulder didn’t rouse him, Derek sighed before picking him up and carrying him up the stairs. As he passed Stiles’ room he inhaled briefly and then continued down the hall to the master bedroom. He placed Noah in his bed, filled up the cup on the nightstand with water, and closed the door.

When he passed Stiles’ room again, he paused and took in the aroma of his mate until the longing in his chest started to hurt. He wouldn’t go inside, because he didn’t want to dilute Stile’s scent until it got lost among the scents of the rest of the pack, but he couldn’t stop himself from lurking outside. The complex mixture of honeysuckle, cinnamon, and oak helped to ground and motivate him, but it also made his wolf jump around in frustration.

He wondered what the Sheriff had meant when he texted “Ststl ntcnmmm bsk,” but it would have to wait until the morning. He grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and settled in for the night.

While the sunlight peeking through the windows roused him from his slumber, the sheriff’s heavy footsteps coming down the stairs brought him to alertness. With the empty cup in hand, Noah entered the kitchen to refill it, and then turned to face Derek, who had gotten up off the couch and now stood at the counter.

“Stiles called me last night,” he began.

It took a moment for the words and their meaning to sink in. “What did he say? Where is he?”

Noah rubbed one hand over his face in an attempt to ease his headache. “He wouldn’t tell me where he was, just that he was safe and that he found someone to teach him how to use his spark. He still thinks that he forced the pack to befriend him and wouldn’t let me tell him he was wrong before he hung up.”

Safe. His mate was safe. He still had no idea where he was, but at least he was alive and able to make phone calls.

“Did you call him back?”

“The number was blocked.”

He held back the claws that threatened to escape and extended his fingers to try and release the built-up tension. “What do we do now?”

Noah set the cup in the sink and pulled two bowls out of the cabinet. “Right now we eat breakfast. We don’t know where he is or how to contact him, but he said he’ll call again next week. Also, he should be sending a letter. The letter will be stamped by the nearest Post Office hub, so once it arrives we’ll at least be able to narrow down the region that he’s in.”

“So. We’re giving up? You’re just going to wait?”

There are moments, small moments, where Derek remembers just how young he is.

Despite how many times he himself has had to admit that he was forced to “grow up” at a young age, his head start does not make him immune to the devastating combination of Disappointed-Dad-Stare that the Sheriff has perfected over the years. Seeing it from Noah drags up just how much he misses his own father; especially when he remembers that he will never be on the receiving end of such a stare ever again.

“We know he’s no longer in Beacon Hills, but not where he is. We have no further information and no leads. So, until one of those facts changes, yes, I will be ‘just waiting.’”

Derek hangs his head and accepts the offered cereal bowl. He sits down at the table and doesn’t raise an eyebrow when Noah distributes cereal from the box that Stiles had written “STILES ONLY. DAD DON’T TOUCH” on the sides. Together they share a moment of remembering the young man that brought the two of them so much joy.

The irony of how much effort Stiles puts in to making sure his father eats healthy food yet consumes a nightmarish amount of curly fries and, apparently, sugar cereal is not lost on him.

It makes Noah laugh as well when he brings it up.

He has a second bowl.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for taking so long to write this chapter. I spent a few days fighting over my unemployment claims, mostly fighting to be able to talk to someone about them.
> 
> I hope you're staying safe, sane, and healthy during your quarantine.

Noah practically had to shove Derek out of the house to inform the rest of the Pack about Stiles’ location and wellbeing, or at least what they knew of it so far.

Objectively, he could see why his son had fallen for the man; he wasn’t blind. Derek had definitely been blessed in the looks department, but with everything he had been through it would definitely take someone as stubborn as a Stilinski to break through the hard exterior he had built up over the years. He hoped that Derek had a stubborn streak of his own, because if Stiles truly was his mate, he would need to be able to move mountains to convince Stiles that it was written in the stars, or however it worked, instead of being unintentionally brought to life from Stiles’ innocent desires.

He got dressed to return to work and then stood on the back deck to gather his thoughts. He wasn’t sure how to proceed from here. Should he cancel the missing person alerts and say that Stiles had been found, or that Stiles had run away but his location was known? He was ashamed to think about how this might affect upcoming elections. _How can the Sheriff protect this town when he can’t even keep track of his own son?_

In the end it was a flyer for a wilderness retreat on the community bulletin board that provided the inspiration to paint the truth in a more flattering light. The Sheriff called off the search for his son because Stiles had decided to attend a specialized trade school that had an alternative method of learning, one that required an extensive amount of time in nature with very limited access to technology. Stiles knew that Noah would be opposed to it, so he left without telling anyone, thinking he would be able to let his father know where he was once he had arrived but was unable to use his phone until that morning.

He apologized for any panic he had caused and thanked the other Sheriff departments for their swift actions and offered his own services should they find themselves in a similar situation.

After a long day Noah parked his cruiser in his driveway and approached the three werewolves standing on the front porch.

“Derek. Scott. Boyd. How are you holding up?”

“We’re fine, Sheriff,” Scott began. “But we all smelled something at the same time, and it led us here.”

“What did you smell?” Noah wasn’t sure if he should be getting his hopes up for more news on his son or if he should be worried about a new supernatural attack.

“You should take a look at this,” Derek said.

Another car approached the house and parked. When the engine died Deaton stepped out and approached the group. “Good evening, Sheriff.”

“Evening. Is something happening?”

“That remains to be seen.”

That’s right, Stiles always did complain about how you couldn’t pull a straight answer out of the man even with a crowbar.

“Sheriff?” Derek interrupted, pulling his attention away from Deaton and towards the small box sitting at the foot of the front door of his house. “We all caught Stiles’ scent and it led us here. There’s a note. I think it’s Stiles’ handwriting.”

It was then that Noah noticed that Derek’s fists were clenched, and his posture was extremely stiff. He was holding himself back. When he ascended the stairs to his house and picked up the box in question, a box constructed from actual wood instead of the cardboard he had expected, it was immediately clear that the “Dad” written on the note laying on top was indeed Stiles’ scrawl.

“Let’s go inside,” Noah said, unlocking the front door.

He sat down at the kitchen table with the box in front of him. He was the only one to take a seat. _Werewolves_ , he figured.

The paper on top of the box was a single sheet. When unfolded it read:

_Dear Dad,_

_If all goes well, you should receive this box after getting home from work on the day after I called you. It’s some sort of teleportation spell I demanded to learn when I found out I couldn’t send you anything through the regular mail. Tim told me there were other basics I needed to master first before I tried this, but I promised you I would get this sent before I called you again. Speaking of which, I expect to be able to call you eight days after you receive this. I can’t guarantee it will be exactly eight days, but definitely within one day of eight._

_I supposed I should tell you who Tim is. He runs the school here. He gets mad when I call it American Hogwarts, but he dislikes Camp Half-Blood even less. He built this place to train Sparks like me. There are five other people here with me. They were all hand picked by Tim, but apparently, he’s making an exception for me because I “waltzed right in” that night I ran away from home._

_I told you on the phone that they were expecting me. I guess Tim was able to sense that someone new would be arriving soon, and that someone was me! How cool is that? I wonder if I’ll be able to sense things like that. Most of what I’ve done so far is work on sending you this box so I don’t know what all I can do. Speaking of which, in order for the spell to work I had to focus really hard on where the object would arrive. It would have been easier if we were still in the old house because I can remember the front door there easily, but we had only lived in Beacon Hills for a year, so it was tough. Good thing I brought the welcome mat with us, the one that reminds me of Mom. I was able to focus on that and somehow I could see the front door, and that mat. I hope it worked and this box made it to you in one piece._

_There are a few pictures of me, to prove that I’m still in one piece, and some charms I worked on. There are notes on each one that explain where to put them. They’re mostly protection spells for the house and your cruiser. Also, there’s one that will help you with your cholesterol. I tried to make it so that you would eat a salad or a vegetable with every meal, but Tim said that was too extreme. Please don’t go heavy on the red meat now that I’m gone!_

_I’m running out of paper, so I’ll wrap this up for now. I love you so much Dad. I’m sorry I left the way I did, but I think I’m where I need to be for now. Somewhere I can learn how to use my Spark without unintentionally molding other people around my desires. I don’t know how long it will take, but none of the other kids here are much older than me, so maybe it isn’t a super long course. I’ll send updates and more care packages when I can._

_Please forgive me,_

_Stiles_

When Noah finished reading the letter aloud there was not a single dry in the room; Scott was openly weeping, but the others were discretely wiping at their eyes.

“Sheriff, may I see the photo Stiles mentioned?” Deaton asked.

At first, Noah was reluctant to let go of the letter, but he set it down gently and then rummaged through the contents. There were three Polaroid instant photos, Stiles being the center of all three. On the backs were written the names of the people in the photograph and a description of what was occurring during the moment that was captures. On the back of a photo that showed Stiles standing next to a middle aged man with a bald head a very bushy beard was written “Stiles and Tim, next to the lake that is Not Full Of Monsters.” Noah held it out and when Deaton examined it, he smiled.

“I see.”

“You see what?” Scott asked.

“Well, your plan to try and locate Stiles’ general location by using the nearest post office that stamped any letter he would send will obviously not be an option. As you read, he was able to directly deliver his package directly to this house. That’s quite an impressive feat for someone so new. Furthermore, no one will be able to locate Stiles no matter what we do.”

“And why is that,” Noah asked, visibly irked.

“Because of Tim. He is indeed a capable teacher for Sparks, but his methods are quite eccentric. The forest Stiles wrote he arrived in is actually in a different realm than our own.”

“What?!” Derek yelled. “My mate is gone?”

“He’s not gone, he’s simply,” Deaton waved a hand in the air as he struggled for the right words. “Around the corner, so to speak.”

‘Could you please explain it in a different way,” Noah asked, trying, but failing, to not use his interrogation voice.

It didn’t seem to have an effect on Deaton. “I don’t fully understand it myself. I met Tim and one of his students once upon a time, but neither was willing to be explicit on how it worked. Stiles is currently inside a vast forest that is somehow both part of and separate from the forests in our realm. One can enter and exit that forest from the border lines at our own forests. If you think of the property lines of the preserve as a hallway with two doors, one door is always open and leads into our realm while the other is shut and locked and it leads into Tim’s forest.”

Everyone stood silent, trying to digest what was said.

“So, basically,” Boyd spoke up, surprising everyone. “It’s like Stiles is in a virtual reality world. He’s nearby, but we don’t have the equipment to be able to see in to that world. We’re not Sparks so we can’t go to where he is, but he can come and go as he pleases?”

“It seems to be the case, though I believe Stiles entering that realm was an accident, caused by what he was saying the night he disappeared.”

“’I need to get out of here’,” Derek repeated softly.

“Precisely. One day he will be able to come and go as he pleases, but he has other things to learn before he will be able.”

“Is Stiles safe with this man?” Noah questioned.

Deaton smiled. “It is probably the safest place for him to be while he learns to control his Spark. Tim does not accept students who seek to use their powers for evil purposes.”

“Good.” Noah retrieved the photograph when Deaton held his hand out to return it and laid it next to the other two. One was a picture of stiles with the other students. The last was taken at night; Stiles’ face was illuminated by a ball of light the size of a baseball, and the look of shock and joy on his face was one that Noah had not seen in a long time.

The rest of the people in the room could see that this was a private moment and began to excuse themselves. Noah thanked them for coming and chuckled when he heard someone mutter “What kind of name is Tim for a powerful warlock, anyway?” as the front door shut.

What kind of name indeed?

He picked up the letter and began to read it again.


End file.
